


beste wünsche.

by freiline



Category: Ginga Eiyuu Densetsu | Legend of the Galactic Heroes
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:21:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28087635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freiline/pseuds/freiline
Summary: oskar von reuenthal gives his best wishes.posted on 16 december. if you know, you know.
Kudos: 9
Collections: Dreaming of Distant Stars I





	beste wünsche.

**Author's Note:**

> **Spoiler Warning** : Spoilers for Vol 9-10, OVA episode 98 onwards.
> 
> My main source (?) is the English translations of the novels so aside from how 'Reuenthal' and 'Mittermeyer' are spelt, I standardised and followed the titles and ranks etc used in the novels.
> 
> Might want to read [the pride of a father](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24863437) (another fic found in the same collection) before reading this, because the ending here is tied to that fic. But I don't think it's necessary!

Reuenthal had no idea how much time had passed since his death. Time had become an incomprehensible concept for him, and the only telling sign that indicated to him that time had passed at all was from his view of the large, ceiling tall window in the office; the sun's descent down the horizon and the moon taking its place above head was his only marker. His eyes were forced to gaze upon his slouched physical form with its— _his?_ —head hung low, sat exactly where he remembered last sitting. He was now floating somewhere within the expanse of the air in the office, in between the realm of the living and whatever it was that lay beyond that.

' _Was I really that pale?_ ' came the first relatively tangible thought, though he reckoned his—or the body's—new complexion had something to do, if not was _mostly_ to do, with his recent passing—it was recent yet distant, a long time ago yet no sooner than seconds ago.

His ears—or whatever it was that now functioned as his receptor for sound—picked up on the commotion that arose from outside the building. Both soft like a whisper, due to the distance from the ground floor to the floor of the office, and also clearly audible as though he was there himself. He knew who would soon come up to see him, and soon enough he was graced with the privilege of seeing his best friend once more before he would no doubt be sucked up—or pulled down—to wherever it was existences— _was he still an existence?_ —like him were supposed to go.

"Marshal von Reuenthal was waiting for Your Excellency. But, in the end…"

The young man who was assigned as his orderly broke into tears and so did the infant that lay in his arms—Reuenthal's own flesh and blood, his infant son still to be named. Him and the babe were accompanied to the adjoining room by who he believed was named Bayerlein, and in time silence came over the room once more.

Reuenthal watched as Mittermeyer removed his own cape and draped it over the shoulders of the body that slumped over the table, red fabric cloaking the blue of Reuenthal's. He wondered if Mittermeyer thought his body was feeling cold and that the chill would transcend into the afterlife. Though he had no means of informing his best friend that the latter was certainly not the case (the concept of temperature was also lost to him), there was no doubt that the absence of a soul kept the vessel's heart from obeying its duty to pump blood across the rest of the body and regulate the body's temperature.

The deceased former marshal snickered to himself. Mittermeyer had always been there to take care of him, and even now in his death he would help to raise the offspring Reuenthal had left behind.

The scene before him transitioned—or time had simply passed, Reuenthal wasn't certain—and they were now at the Mariendorf residence, him and Mittermeyer, along with young Lambertz and the infant child cradled in his arms. The honey-haired marshal requested assistance from Hilda in asking the Kaiser for permission to raise Reuenthal's child as his own, and Hilda readily met his request with a positive response.

Reuenthal then followed—or more accurately, he found himself following—the trio back to the Mittermeyer household where they had to overcome the next hurdle: Mrs Mittermeyer.

Truth be told, though Reuenthal wanted to refrain from complacency, he would be shocked if Evangeline were to reject the notion of adopting his son for their own. Evangeline was a kind and gentle woman, the perfect fit for his honey-haired best friend who tolerated his antics for far too long to be labelled anything other than saint-like; if she wouldn't take in the innocent child, then Reuenthal believed that no one would.

But of course, she gladly accepted the position of being the child's mother under the condition that she held the right to name him, and both Mittermeyer and Reuenthal said in unison "Yes. Of course."

The once nameless child was now and henceforth to be known as Felix, named with the knowledge that it once had the meaning 'lucky'. Why Evangeline wished to bestow luck upon the young infant was unknown to Reuenthal; there was the possibility that it was no more than the simple wish of nothing bad befalling upon him, or perhaps there was a deeper meaning that implied her desire for the child to have greater fortune than that of his biological father, if the latter's fate was any indication of his lack thereof.

In any case, all that mattered was that the boy who had been abandoned by both mother and father before he could even speak his first word now had a name to call his own, and perhaps a brighter future to claim with his own strength.

Maybe he truly would grow to have luck on his side, though Reuenthal joked to himself that any level of luck that was greater than his own would surely be appreciated by the boy who shared his lineage.

* * *

At some point, a glowing white entity materialized (?) before him and took on the shape of a glaringly familiar figure. The last memory Reuenthal had of the taller male was covered in blood and heavy with all the grief and sorrow his death had brought to the one man Reuenthal bent his knee to. At the time, a liquid of the same shade as his red hair came pouring out from the back of his neck and only the gods themselves could stop the stream of blood from escaping his body.

The gods, however, were merciless. In the end, not only was Siegfried Kircheis lost to them, but the man who would become Kaiser Reinhard von Lohengramm had lost half of himself.

"It's been a while, Marshal von Reuenthal." Kircheis spoke in the same gentle tone Reuenthal remembered his voice normally took on, though the title before his family name was a new experience coming from the red-haired man.

"I take it that you've been watching us all this time, then," Reuenthal began.

"Yes. We all have, actually."

The dark-haired man gave a short hum of acknowledgement and now looked around the new environment that surrounded them. A radiant pale yellow that perhaps was a hint to the scene they would now bear witness to. "Is this Valhalla?"

"No, not quite." Kircheis shook his head. "One of the valkyrjur was supposed to guide you, but I asked if it was possible for me to do so instead. I thought a familiar face would be less frightening."

Reuenthal chuckled softly. "You thought correctly. However... I am uncertain that I deserve any right to face everyone at this very moment."

In vehement wickedness, his mind replayed for him the scene when he first heard of High Admiral—or now Fleet Marshal—Lutz's untimely death. Oh, how cruel the fates were indeed. If he had gone down as what most would have deemed the better course of action, would all that had transpired still have come to pass? Would Lutz instead now still be alive, with the nurse who once attended to his wounds transitioning from fiancée to beloved wife? Would he instead not be where he was now, in limbo with the ghost of a future without him right before his eyes and the horrors of the past right behind his shoulder? Would he instead have been able to give, by his own hands, to his young son the childhood that had been robbed from him?

Would the absence of his disgraceful stunt of pride have been of greater benefit to everyone in exchange for the cost to his own person, who would then have to masquerade as another who lacked the trauma of his past that crippled him so?

A heavy weight had taken upon itself to perch right atop Reuenthal's (figurative) heart, and his red-haired companion was quick to spot the shadow that had casted upon the heterochromatic male. With a smile so kind that it instead tightened round Reuenthal's guts (such a smile had no place in the presence of Reuenthal's hideous guilt), Kircheis murmured. "What has passed cannot be undone. High Admiral—no, Marshal Lutz understands this, and he places no blame on you for his death. I think you too should now know as to why."

Reuenthal opened his mouth to speak but was effectively halted by Reinhard's voice.

"You are a good boy, Felix. I hope you will always remain a good friend to the prince."

Reuenthal then took a moment to look upon the young toddler who bore a striking resemblance to him—he was his blood, after all, the only remaining living creature left to bear the von Reuenthal lineage. He was certain that Mittermeyer now too was wondering what sort of friendship would blossom between the two children in the room.

Would they become a singular entity like Reinhard and his other half Kircheis, or would they share a camaraderie that went past the call of duty like him and his close friend Mittermeyer did? Only time could tell but one thing was certain: Reuenthal thought how wonderful it would be if the two could share a fate better than that of their fathers.

It took a few minutes, after Hilda said a few words and everyone was given some time to grieve, for Reinhard's soul to transcend the realm of the living and into the plane of existence they were both now in. When Reinhard took shape before them, he was as radiant and magnificent as the deity he was made out to be among the living, and Reuenthal had to take a moment to bask in his lustre. He eventually caught himself and, in an instant, recalled the rebellion he fought against his Kaiser, his head now hung low in both reverence and the weight of his shame.

However, Reinhard barely noticed him.

"Kircheis!" Reinhard cried out in melodious joy and without a moment's hesitation, he dashed over to Kircheis and launched himself onto the taller male for a well-deserved tight embrace.

Reuenthal stepped aside and his eyes caught a glimpse of Kircheis' euphoric smile—a sight he had yet to see until then, though one he greatly welcomed—right before his face, soon buried into the gleaming mane of Reinhard's blond waves and his arms wrapped intimately around his other half. The duo shared a moment—a few moments, an hour, an eternity—of just basking in the miraculous wonder of each other's company, and Reuenthal felt almost impious for witnessing such a sacred moment between the two halves that were separated by the cruelty of the world.

The dark-haired marshal tore his gaze away from the two, allowed them the privacy that had been robbed from them for almost half a decade, and looked again towards the living left behind. In particular, the new Kaiser Alexander Siegfried von Lohengramm and his son Felix Mittermeyer.

If his death could have been taken as sacrifice for all the trials and tribulations that would have by right been forced upon their path, then oh what joy to have offered himself up in service. To the offspring of the only man he would now and forevermore bend the knee to, and to the young boy he helped bring into the world who deserved not the fate of his kin.

He wished them both a long and fruitful lifetime of happiness, and hoped that the same prayer could also be extended to the best friend who rightfully so deserved all of the beauty and wonders of the world of the living.

* * *

When Reuenthal heard his son ask Mittermeyer if he would have been proud of him, the answer that came to his mind was a resounding yes. Though not only did he have pride in the son he had left behind, but also for the comrade who took it upon himself to raise that son as his own.

'If you have a friend you can entrust your child to when you die, that's life's greatest happiness.' Reuenthal had once recited a pompous pronouncement from some pompous ass (he still stood by that belief) shortly before his death, and it was feasible that this was why he had less qualms about his passing. His child would be in safe—if not better—hands with the Mittermeyers. Reuenthal was certain of it then, and they went beyond the call of duty in proving it to him every day since they had taken him in.

The once baby boy named Felix was now a strong and confident young man who was almost the splitting image of him. There was no mistaking the small and subtle features that he had physically inherited from his biological mother, not to mention the vague resemblances in the make of their characters (that could arguably have also been inherited from him). But it was vehemently apparent that he was the child of the late Fleet Marshal Oskar von Reuenthal through and through; from his dark brown hair to his dignified demeanour, all the way to his captivating cerulean blue eyes and the command in his voice.

The only gripe Reuenthal had with his son was the latter's insistence on continuing the family name. When Reuenthal first heard of Felix's desire to change his name to end with 'von Reuenthal', the older Reuenthal male couldn't help but scoff at the notion. He simply couldn't comprehend his son's reasoning on why he would wish that upon himself, for surely the whole of society had already conditioned him into believing that the Reuenthal name was a curse most would like to avoid for themselves. And yet the idea never left Felix's mind and before he knew it, his son had gone to Mittermeyer to ask for the honey-haired marshal's permission in doing as such.

His best friend's response back then had made him scoff as well, but the casual comment he had now made was anything but casual and left no room for humor to be found. If anything, it was a blatant gripe against him that Reuenthal refused to take lying down.

 _'Who's the childish one now_ ,' Reuenthal taunted with a grin on his lips, even though he knew there was no way for Mittermeyer to hear him. Not anymore, at least.

He still remembered that night vividly, when Reuenthal proclaimed that his family name would end with him. In front of a couple trying for children of their own. Even if the forces of death had robbed him of his senses, the embarrassment he felt would haunt him forever and plague his memories. He mentally criticized himself for how he handled the entire situation, and blessed Mittermeyer's kind heart for understanding his best friend's nature far too well—only Odin knew how drastically different his life would have been if not for the stable presence of the one remaining treasure of the Imperial Navy.

When his son left the room to prepare for his day with Kaiser Alec, Reuenthal took some time to catalogue the age that had taken hold of his best friend. Though there was no doubt that his mind remained as fast and sharp as it did when he earned the epithet 'Gale Wolf', the same could not be said for his physicality, with his muscles gradually losing the elasticity they had back in his youth and muscle mass giving way to some fat. Wrinkles had also begun to adorn his face and formed as trophies of the many achievements under his belt, earned from hard work and even greater sacrifice.

Reuenthal's features morphed into a soft expression, his smile all telling of the fondness he bore for his best friend and the son that they shared.

There was nothing else left for him in the world of the living. His son was off to become no doubt one of the greatest assets to the Imperial Navy since his own fathers, and his best friend was assuredly content with the life he had lived thus far.

' _Don't join me just yet though, Mittermeyer_ ,' Reuenthal murmured into the air.

Mittermeyer's eyes grew in an instant and the honey-haired marshal darted them up around the room, as though he was searching for something up in the air. Reuenthal's own eyes widened and for a moment his heart leapt at the slim chance that his best friend had heard his earnest wish, though he was quick to brush the ridiculous presumption off and he chuckled at his own foolishness.

Reuenthal was there for a moment, and yet also for longer than an eternity. The wheel of time continued to tumble forward without him, and he watched from the sidelines as the lives of those dear to him carried on.

' _When your time comes, I'll have you pour me a glass of whiskey._ '

After his final words to the friend who was so much more than that—he was a comrade, he was a brother, he was his other half, the other Twin Rampart…

Reuenthal became air.

**Author's Note:**

> I actually had this written out already back in end Sept 2020, and if I remember correctly this came about because I was rereading the ending of The Song of Achilles again. Idk if that's a spoiler but the book is a retelling of The Iliad, so i think the rule for a spoiler warning expired about a thousand years ago aha
> 
> In all honesty, the scene I had the most difficulty writing in general was Kircheis and Reinhard's reunion. As shippy as it is (I don't actually actively ship Kircheis and Reinhard btw), I think it would feel more weird if Reinhard didn't react in that fashion so I had to write it out like that but I was having difficulty writing it out and bleh. At least it's done. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this! Please leave a kudos or a comment (regardless if you're a guest or a signed in user), it's very much appreciated!!


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